Youth and Other Science Fiction Stories

By H.W. Moss

“Youth and Other Science Fiction Stories” is an anthology of 14 short stories written and collected over many years by H. W. Moss. The oldest, “Doggerel from the Drunkard’s Walk,” was written as a Feghoot, the term for joke SF stories that turn on or conclude with a pun. The most recent, “Youth,” describes alien intervention with humans over the last 6,000 years and turns Ayers Rock into a spaceship.
Stories:
“Youth” -- Throughout history humans have been assisted and guided.
“They Work Harder” -- An intergalactic adventure story which includes alien sex.
“Never Love a Man Again” -- Artificial intelligence can fall in love too.
“Artificial Music Appreciation” -- Noisy neighbors and how to shut them up.
“Security Clearance” -- When the dream is over, where do we awake?
“The Exiled Elf” -- Santa gets angry. Elf gets even.
“Bar’s a Funny Place” -- This story does for alcohol what steroids do for athletes.
“The Philanthropist” -- Just how much stuff can you give away?
“The Toxic Cops” -- A cautionary tale for our times.
“Twenty Years Ago Today” -- Let the pool games begin!
“Weeds” -- Having an alien point of view is important here.
“Purple Prose” -- The mind is a terrible thing -- when controlled by others.
“Doggerel from the Drunkard’s Walk” -- Punishing tale of extra sensory perception.
“Real Time Clock” -- Bio-eugenics taken to a whole new level.

• Language: English
• Publisher: H.W. Moss
• Release date: Jan 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301276462

H.W. Moss

H. W. Moss was born in Riverside, CA, on August 4, 1947, darn near one of the first Baby Boomers. Graduated Long Beach State, B. A. English Literature, 1970. M. B. A. San Francisco State University, 1988. He successfully avoided marriage and the military.

Book preview

Youth and Other Science Fiction Stories

by H. W. Moss

Published by NetNovels

Smashwords Edition.

© Copyright 2013 NetNovels

ISBN: 9781301276462

Cover Illustration: The Search for Googol – Ptolmania, Third Moon of Algaroon-III. Status report: Negative by Stephen Moss colorized by Cito.

Cover type setting by Bob Bohle.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Youth

They Work Harder

Never Love a Man Again

Artificial Music Appreciation

Security Clearance

The Exiled Elf

Bar’s a Funny Place

The Toxic Cops

The Philanthropist

Twenty Years Ago Today

Weeds

Purple Prose

Doggerel from the Drunkard’s Walk

Real Time Clock

About the Author

Youth

Jeremy leaned over and kissed the girl full on her lips, then thrust his tongue down her throat and pressed his pelvis into hers leaving nothing to the imagination. Obviously he was ready. No one else in the crowded nightclub noticed, but the girl certainly did.

I know this great hotel with Victorian décor. He suggested they check out of the club and check in there.

That crooked smile of hers, the one that reminded Jeremy of another, was all she gave in reply, but he understood her answer. He looped his arm through her bent elbow and led the way to his car, pressed his keychain remote as they approached the vehicle. The headlights came on as did two interior lamps, one focused on the driver’s seat and one on the passenger side; the doors unlocked and the engine came to life, purring at idle.

The hint of promised sex from the young woman almost overpowered Jeremy’s ability to drive safely. The hotel had a garage with an attendant. He left the key in the ignition and got out, walked quickly to her side and gallantly opened the door for her. Again taking her arm, he escorted her into the foyer where he began filling out the registry.

There was a photo in a corner on the counter top. Two young men in their mid-thirties stood close together and smiled at the camera.

Mike or John still alive? Jeremy asked idly as he produced a credit card and flashed a second piece of identification.

You mean the Pietro brothers? The young man nodded as the desk clerk swiped his card. John still is, yah, he said absently as he plucked the receipt from the printer and passed it across for signature. He owns the hotel. Mike passed away some years ago.

Jeremy signed, accepted the room key, examined it and stepped back to take the hand of the pretty girl who accompanied him. The elevator doors separated and they entered, turned and faced the foyer. Just before the doors glided shut Jeremy said, Tell John I said hello. Give him my full name. He ought to remember me.

They were lying naked next to each other collapsed in exhaustion when a set of knuckles rapped on the door. Jeremy rose, pulled on his pants, said Just a minute, and walked over to place an eye to the through hole and a hand on the door latch. He tugged the door open which allowed hallway light to flood the room

Staring up at him with wizened features and white hair was a wiry old man. He had once been taller, but old age had shrunk his bones. The young man towered over him and stood smiling benignly down until the old gentleman had a good long look. His eyes grew large.

Migod, it is you, the old man said with obvious astonishment. How is this possible? Or are you his son? This is amazing. You look just like him

Hello, John. I’d invite you in but, the young man glanced over his shoulder at the naked woman who had crawled under the covers and pulled the sheets up to her chin, I don’t think she’s ready to receive visitors.

John took a step back into the hall as Jeremy grabbed his shirt off a chair, crossed the threshold and pulled the door closed behind him.

Jeremy dangled the key in front of the girl, laid it on the nightstand. He said to John, If I leave my room key and she splits, you can fix that, right? After all, you do own the place.

John’s eyes seemed to have grown even larger as he stood transfixed, his mouth open but unable to speak.

Hey, I know it’s a bit of a shock, Jeremy said with a wry smile. He placed one arm over the old man’s shoulder and steered him toward the bank of elevators. Talk over coffee? Café on the first floor still open?

Jesus Christ, boy, the old man said as the elevator arrived and he was guided through its opening, You’re my age. At least, you were my age when I was your age. How the fuck can this be happening?

They entered. The elevator began its descent.

***

The corner of Sixteenth and Valencia attracted a crowd of young people nightly. They hung out and did little else. Not exactly a gang of youth, but certainly a bunch, a group, a pile of boys and girls who stood on the sidewalk, backs against a building wall, some seated on porch steps reclining, smoking tobacco, sucking on cans or bottles of soda or water because even with a fake ID they rarely passed for old enough to purchase liquor.

One boy had his arm slung over a girl’s shoulder in a loose and careless manner as if hanging onto a packhorse. The couple had their heads together in intimate conversation when the boy raised his lips to brush the girl’s neck with a kiss and take a drag from a lit cigarette in his other hand.

Mmmmm, that feels good, the girl whispered in his ear. He licked her ear lobe and exhaled smoke.

Although ordinarily he paid close attention to ear lobes, the boy became suddenly distracted. He found himself staring over the girl’s shoulder at a gray haired woman who walked with a cane and who had just begun to step around the gathered loiterers. The old woman took one look at him with his mouth open, smoke billowing out, and fell to her knees as if struck by a hammer blow to the head. Then she fell over on her side.

***

John guided Jeremy to a table in the small, well-lighted restaurant that fronted Lombard Street. For a hotel café, the place had a good reputation and drew locals as well as tourists. However, at this time of night it was practically empty. A waitress approached intending to point out that bare feet were not allowed, but John waved her off. His face bore a serious and determined expression which caused her to drift immediately away.

John walked closely behind his guest never allowing the young man an opportunity to break and run, not that he gave any indication he might. They took facing seats at the table as the waitress returned a moment later with a full pot of coffee, filled two cups, took the hint and disappeared again.

John immediately asked, How do I know it’s really you? This could be some giant practical joke. You might be the grandson of my old friend and he’s really somewhere behind the scenes pulling strings in a grotesque gag.

Why, John. I’m flattered you would think I could be so devious. Seems to me we were always pretty straight with each other. I know it’s hard to believe, but it really is me.

Yah? Well, where did we meet?

Downstairs at City Lights Books on Columbus and Broadway. I was looking in the Science Fiction section and you were perusing the poetry, as I recall.

Anyone could have told you that. What was it we did together that New Year’s Eve?

Got drunk?

Good guess.

But first we got laid. By the same girl.

John’s face blanched with this last statement. I’ve never told anyone that.

Neither have I.

I still can’t believe it’s you. You look, what? You look maybe 25.

Actually, I’m considerably older than that. Many centuries older.

Impossible!

I know, but it’s true. And not by accident, I might add.

The old man’s mind was still spry and he seemed willing to accept what he was told, especially in light of what he saw before him. Why are you here?

You mean here in your hotel or here in San Francisco?

Both.

I live here. Have for decades. I was living here long before you and I met, in fact. But frankly John tonight was unplanned. I didn’t come looking for you. I just wanted to ball this chick and needed a hotel room so we checked in. And, much to my surprise, I saw the picture of you and Mike on the counter. Didn’t know if you were still the owner. Sorry to hear about Mike, always liked him. Just thought I’d tell the desk clerk to say hello, is all. It was a whim. I had no idea they would phone you immediately. I thought I’d be checked out long before you even got the message and you’d let it slide. How’d I know you’d come knocking this late?

The old man listened quietly with hands clasped together on the table in front of him. Then he said, They have standing orders to call me in an emergency or, in this case the clerk thought it important enough, it did seem personal. That’s cuz I live in the neighborhood and the clerks know I go to bed late and can get here real quick. When I heard your name I walked over thinking I was going to find an old man like me. Not the kid I knew in my twenties still a kid in his twenties.

Well, it’s good seeing you anyway, John.

Yah? Well, it’s creepy seeing you.

***

Someone standing on the sidewalk, one of the girls, said calmly, LOL down. Who’s got a cell phone? Call nine-one-one.

Two adolescent men walked over to the fainting victim and appeared to be offering help. However, one was rifling her purse while the other unsnapped a piece of costume jewelry from the woman’s wrist. As he examined it, the bracelet was snatched from his hand.

Get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass!

They rose and backed away. The boy who approached them had a girl in tow. What did he care what happened to an old lady, anyway?

Aw. We just wanted to see what she carried. No harm, said the smaller of the two.

There were a tense few seconds in which the larger, the one with the purse, must have considered taking up the challenge. His opponent was certainly no match for size or weight, but he had a military bearing that might hide martial arts ability. His tone was commanding and he had a maturity that, despite his appearance, forced them into grudging respect. The purse-snatcher thought better of it, threw the handbag on top of the woman who was just then coming around, turned and walked away. His companion did the same.

Yah, well, did anyone call an ambulance? the young man asked of no one in particular. When none took responsibility for having done so, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a cell and punched the emergency numbers. He gave dispatch an exact address without even looking at the street signs.

Jeez, what do you care? the girl he had just been nuzzling asked indignantly. It’s an ol’ lady. Hey? That’s not your mom or something, is it?

He turned his attention to the supine woman who was now staring into his eyes. She was awake and aware and there was a very frightened look on her face. She said weakly, Dax? Can that be you, Dax?

Yes, Claire, it’s me. Now lie calm, okay? Paramedics are on their way. He put a hand under her head, raised it and gently placed the purse beneath as a cushion. Within another minute the sound of a siren could be heard.

Do you have insurance, Claire? Can you tell me where you want to be taken? She answered and he conveyed this to the paramedics when they arrived. They lifted the old woman onto a stretcher which popped up into a gurney. Dax walked beside and held her hand. Not until they were at the tailgate of the ambulance did he let go.

The paramedics stood waiting either for instructions from Dax or for him to leave the woman alone. Either way was all the same to them.

He looked around and realized the girl he had been with was nowhere in sight. Where’s Caroline? he asked one of the porch sitters.

Soon’s the guys in uniform appeared, she cut out.

Dax shrugged, leaped into the back of the ambulance. I’ll ride with you, he said to the patient as the doors closed and the vehicle lurched to life. Just to be sure. After all, we are still married, aren’t we?

***

John pushed the coffee cup away and reached for a wine glass. He poured from a bottle of Chardonnay the waitress brought without him asking. Instead of sipping slowly, John took a big gulp. If seeing was believing, he was not having difficulty believing what he saw and heard, he was simply astonished by it.

Are you going to tell me the whole story or just parts of it? he asked as he put the glass down, refilled it.

Hey, John. Like I told you, it’s not like I planned to find you tonight. I didn’t go looking. It just brought back fond memories when I saw your picture on the counter is all. He accepted a glass, sipped thoughtfully, put it down. Mmmmmm. Nice oak flavor. Yes, I suppose I can tell you the whole story, but, John, you are not going to find this easy to take.

Try me.

Okay. I am member of an interstellar crew, a ranking officer as a matter of fact. Our ship has a compliment of 300 and we landed on your planet one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five years ago, according to how you calculate time. However, to me that was only 183 days ago, about six months. When we arrived Rome had not yet fallen, Christianity was just beginning to take in a lot more converts and your ability to refrigerate or freeze food for storage was about 17 centuries in the future.

John sat silently as he absorbed this information. You’re right. I am not going to find this easy to take. He lifted his glass, saluted the man across the table from him who claimed to be thousands of years old and drained the drink in one gulp.

Told ya. But it gets worse.

I reserve the right to make my own judgment on that, if you don’t mind.

Not at all, John. Well, here goes.

***

The air was hot, hotter than a burning summer day. Runner Catches Rabbits withdrew further into the shade of the rocky formation where he panted like a dog with its tongue lolling. He was puzzled, for he knew the seasons, and could not explain why the air around him felt so wrong. It was the cold season, yet at the mouth of this shallow cave where he sought temporary shelter the heat was stifling, had become oppressive.

He thought his eyes were playing tricks as something began to form into a shape there at the cave entrance. It was as if the air itself were coalescing as a rapidly moving form. Two, then four shimmering shapes appeared which were almost, but not quite, substantial enough for his vision to latch onto and hold. The figures appeared and disappeared, wove intricate patterns in the sand as they went about an arcane business apparently completely unaware of his watchful presence. The day waned and still the forms frenetically wove paths in the sand in front of him.

Time passed as fear kept him at the back of the cave. Hunger began to work its way up and he forced it down. Thirst parched his throat and he imagined spring water from a nearby stream which satisfied him for a while. He put a pebble in his mouth. Still, the forms moved frantically, urgently, purposefully but without ever taking a true shape, like a snake or a bird or the burrowing animals. Nor did they rest. But Runner Catches Rabbits could not keep the awakening at bay for more than another sunrise, and so he awoke and stayed awake until he was forced to return to the dream world.

When he did open his eyes on the dream world again, he stretched and felt the emptiness in his stomach and then remembered why he was cowering like a fearful rodent in the back of the cave.

Runner peered out and found himself surrounded by the same frenetic activity, but now the forms were more vivid. They had become firmer, sturdier, more substantial. And, although it was as if he could see right through them, they bore the likeness of other hunters. They had the same proportions and number of limbs and they did not hiss or make threatening gestures as the large hopping animal often did. They were, however, covered with a strange colored skin. And the air remained hot all around them.

The day eroded and Runner found himself hard pressed to control the demands of his body. He knew the time would soon come when he had no choice but to sprint past the strange apparitions which could still barely be seen, moving very fast, evanescent, unreal like heat rising from a dry lake bed.

He waited until it was dark and the sky at the mouth of his hiding place filled with the reassuring lights with which he had been awake since birth. This was his last best opportunity, now while he still had the strength and a few hours remained before the moon rose to flood the plain outside with its bright glow.

Runner Catches Rabbits gathered his bundle of spears, tightened the animal skin around his shoulders so it would not fall while he made his getaway, and moved cautiously, stealthily toward the cave entrance. He knelt and watched and when he thought the chimeras would take the least notice, he assumed the stance which made him famous as a source for food among his people.

He was prepared to spring when, at his feet, there suddenly appeared several objects. They were not natural and bore strange, inexplicable markings. He had no time to examine them closely, nor to decide which to take. It was an arbitrary and purely instinctive move made in the split second between seeing them and the act of taking. He placed a hand on a small flat circular object no bigger than his palm which made it easy to pick up and carry. Then he jumped out of the cave and ran like the wind.

How did you like living with the locals? Captain Stanton inquired of his junior lieutenant. They seem friendly enough from what I’ve heard.

Oh, they are, sir. And quite intelligent. However, while many cultures on the rest of this planet have progressed toward urbanization and an agrarian lifestyle, these people are isolated. They are, after all, on an island with no real predators, plenty of resources and we know what that means. There is no push. As a result, little change occurs. They don’t even have the wheel yet. Once we were acclimated and could communicate directly, they accepted us as visitors from what they call the Dream Time and never made a threatening move toward us. Their language is quite advanced and rather complicated, but easily learned. However, they are still in the Stone Age. While we may have been roughing it, setting up tents and camping out beneath the stars, they were naked among the elements.

The captain made a few notations, nodded toward his JG and said, Proceed with your debriefing.

Well, we were there a full week, sir, taking samples and examining microbes. You know, one of the hardest things to get used to is that blinking sun. It keeps going on and off with annoying rapidity. It took three days to get acclimated and it was quite disconcerting until our bodies and brains adjusted. One of our days is equivalent to nearly ten of their years. As a result, we were sure the locals would be totally unaware of us. However, we were quite mistaken. To my knowledge, this is the first time a native people could actually sense our presence almost immediately. They even developed a myth around us. They know we are here, but cannot compare it to anything. Thus, the myth. They say Uluru, which is the name they have given our ship, has a hollow beneath it even if they have no idea what it might contain. They use a word, ‘Tjukurpa,’ which has no exact translation for us, but is quite modern. It conceptualizes the past, the present and the future as well as describing the physical features of the land with relation to their own social structure.

That’s quite a word, Lieutenant. ‘Tjukurpa’ sounds like something we ought to take back with us.

Yessir. Oh, and one of the crew, Dano it was sir, seems to have misplaced his access. He went into a cave to do his private business and when he came out his EA was gone. Thinks an animal may have picked it up and walked off with it. Careless. He has already been reprimanded, but I suggest we change the code, sir, just in case.

The captain looked surprised. In case what, Lieutenant? In case one of the locals figures out what it is and attempts to come aboard? I find that highly unlikely. However, I will take your advice and make sure a new EA code is issued. That will be all for now. I look forward to reading your full report. You are relieved. Send in Blake.

***

I don’t get it, John said with one hand on the wine bottle and the other on his glass. He hefted the container, squinted at it, decided there was not enough and motioned for the waitress. When she did not immediately arrive, he shouted her name.

Murielle. Where are you, girl? He turned in his seat to find her at his side.

Yes, Mister Pietro. What can I do for you?

A Scotch. He looked tightly at Jeremy, then with another squint of his eyes that asked, You want one too? When Jeremy nodded, John said, Second thought, bring a full bottle and two glasses. This is going to be a long night.

She left to fill the order and John turned to the young man opposite. Here’s what I don’t get. If half what you say is true, how come nobody knows you’re here?

John, they do. We have shown ourselves to your government officials and presented ourselves to your heads of state time and time again, all to no avail. We have shown your scientists and mathematicians numerous innovations which they invariably take credit for when someone asks. I think you are a mostly cynical people, John, and the idea that aliens have already landed is an invitation to be put on meds or made a laughing stock. Frankly, until a couple weeks ago, um, a hundred and fifty years ago or so, the idea was completely unfamiliar to any of you. There just were not enough people to try and explain the concept to at around the time of the American Civil War.

Yet you’re telling me now.

You think you’ll be able to convince anyone after I’m gone that you talked with an alien creature? C’mon, John, let’s get real. Try telling it to the tabloids. We read them too, you know.

Yah. I see your point. But what have you done all these years? Don’t you get bored?

Jeremy looked wistful. Then he said, "That’s one of the big bennies of this branch of service. We are all volunteers on a dangerous mission, no